Chains
by GeekyChic123
Summary: Based on the latest Agent Carter episode, where we learned all Red Room recruits sleep chained to their beds- Even after they leave the program. Will continue this if people want... Who am I kidding, I love this story it is continuing no matter what. Please check it out! NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

I like the idea that Natasha continued to chain herself to her bed after she escaped the Red Room because of OCD- And because one of the only memories she has left of before the room brainwashed her is when she was brought in. Chained down. Scared and confused. Chaining herself at night is not just something she was trained to do, or a compulsion she has, it is her link to back when she was more human than agent. More human than spider. I have suffered from OCD, and drew upon my own experiences to describe how I think she would feel.

_

For the first week or so, she didn't even have to be asked to be handcuffed to the bed. No one at Shield trusted her, they were scared she was going to murder them in their sleep. So, every night when she went to bed, Clint would come in and handcuff her. She had acted like she didn't like it, and had told Clint that if she wanted to kill everyone handcuffs wouldn't stop her anyway. She could just pick the lock with her fingernails. Or break her thumb so she could slip free of the shackle.

She thought it would be months before they trusted her enough to sleep without being chained to the bed. So, that night, when Clint escorted her to her room and started to leave without producing the handcuffs, she thought he must have forgotten.

"Don't you need to chain me up Barton? Make sure I don't go crazy, and stab everyone tonight?" She spoke coldly, her eyes were flat an emotionless as they bore into his. Clint just shrugged, "I told Fury chaining you up was pointless. Like you said, if you really wanted to do some damage you could easily break out. Besides, we have security cameras everywhere and agents are on call at all times. How much harm could you do here really?"

He was dead serious confident in cameras and agents. Natasha almost smiled at how naive he was. Give her an hour, she could run this group into the ground. It would almost be too easy. Except that she couldn't smile, couldn't make a joke. The urge, the compulsion, the desperate need was surging through her. It was an instinct that she couldn't ignore. The Red Room had messed her up so deeply, she had to be handcuffed to fall asleep. She just had to. Just like she always had to smile when seducing the mark, had to hit the target every time she shot a gun. Like she had to recognize a poison by smell alone, had to become whoever the person she was manipulating wanted her to be. The need to sleep handcuffed was ingrained in her, it was part of her training. Part of who she was.

Barton was leaving now, Natasha's heart pounded in her throat. She couldn't just ask him to chain her up, right? He would think she was crazy. Was there something she could use instead of handcuffs? No, they were scared any object in her hands would become a weapon, her room was empty. There wasn't even dental floss in the bathroom. Ok, they weren't wrong, she could weaponize anything, but that wasn't what she wanted now. She wasn't looking for a weapon. Just wanted something to use as a handcuff, something that would secure her, keep her sane. If she wasn't handcuffed when she slept, Natasha felt like the last remaining parts of herself would shatter into a million little pieces and she would never, ever get them back. The handcuffs held her together, kept her whole.

"Ok, you have another Psych eval tomorrow Tash, but see you for training in the afternoon?" Clint said, smiling as if he was talking with his best friend. She couldn't ask him for handcuffs. He was the only one who trusted her at all, her only "friend" in this place. She couldn't have him think she was as insane as Natasha knew she really was. "Goodnight Barton." She said coldly, turning away waiting for him to leave the room. He chuckled at her cold reply, and left. The door locked behind him.

Natasha was left alone, with her thoughts and fears. She had overcome so much in the red-room, why couldn't she get over this too? The Black Widow laid down on the bed, and closed her eyes in an attempt to sleep. It didn't work. Her brain needed the sensation of being anchored down to reality, had to know that she was safe and secure somewhere before it would allow her to drift away to sleep. Natasha was sweating now, she felt how quickly her heart was beating. She recognized the early symptoms of a panic attack. They were sickly sweet, thrumming through her body in time to the beat of her heart, all consuming and impossible to escape from.

She threw the blankets off of the bed and began intently searching the room, for something, anything that could anchor her down. That would not let her fly apart in the night, that held fast to what human parts of her were left.

Nothing. There was nothing in the room but a bed, sheets and a blanket. Damn it.

Her hands were trembling now, every ounce of her being was focused on this. She had to do it right, fix it, or she couldn't sleep no matter how tired she was. Finally she realized what she could do. It was almost too easy. She yanked the sheet off of her bed, and tore it into long strips that she then braided into a thin rope. It wasn't long enough to strangle someone, or even be much of a weapon. But it would do the job for what she needed tonight.

Natasha wound one end of the rope around the head of the bed, tied the right knots, made sure it was pulled tight. Then she wrapped the other end tightly around her hand, tight enough that she felt the rough fabric digging into her skin. She could practically feel the blood flow to her hand slow as the fabric constricted her veins.

It still wasn't tight enough.

She spent the next ten minutes checking the rope, checking the end around her wrist, tightening it, checking the end tied to the headboard, fixing that. Then back to checking the rope. It was a vicious yet comforting cycle, until she finally felt the restraint was just right. Just perfect. She would have to wake up early to make sure Barton or one of Fury's lackeys did not see like this, but she could handle that.

Natasha laid back, her left arm being pulled up just right above her head. This was good. She was going to be fine.

For one more night she was tied down.

For one more night, she would keep what was left of her humanity, what she had left of her shattered memories.

For one more night, she would keep doing this thing that made her feel human.

But now, she would sleep.

Please please please review!


	2. Chapter 2

The morning after she tied herself to the bed with a torn up sheet, Natasha woke up unable to feel her hand. But it was fine. Ok, so it might have been turning blue, and if she had slept any longer something horrible could have happened to it. Maybe she never would have gained full control of the hand again, who knows they might have had to amputate it. Whatever, it was fine, she was fine. Eventually she got all the feeling back in her hand and could move all of her fingers, what's the big deal? It wasn't a big deal. She was fine, this was normal, it wasn't hurting anyone. It was just something Natasha needed to do. Tethering herself to her bed at night wasn't hurting anyone but her, it was totally fine to continue this ritual.

Later that day she had training with Barton. Everyone around her was watching her around the weapons, scared she would take one and kill whoever crossed her path. Luckily no one seemed to notice when she plucked a pair of handcuffs off of a new agents belt, and slipped them into a pocket of the sweatshirt Barton had given her. She wasn't able to get the key to go with them, but a paperclip plucked from Fury's desk was more than enough for Natasha to pick the lock with.

The rope had been enough to get her through the night before, but as Natasha clicked the cold metal ring around her wrist that night she was filled with relief. This was routine. This was comforting. This was right.

_

Two months later Clint and Natasha were on their first longterm mission together. Ok, two days could hardly be called longterm. But before then Shield had only sent them on day jobs, quick little things where Natasha and Clint would get in, do the job, get out and go back to Shield. Back where everyone could keep an eye on her. But this job needed some time to complete, and Barton had finally convinced Fury that Natasha was not going to run away if she spent a night off Shield property. And besides, he had brought her in once, why should Fury think Clint couldn't do it a second time?

That comment had made Natasha's blood boil, she had spent most of the plane ride here contemplating different ways she could escape out from under Barton's watch and not get caught. Not that she actually would, but it felt good knowing that she could if she really wanted to. If she needed to. She could be out of here and off the grid in less than an hour. Not that Barton needed to know that, best to let him be comfortable in his ignorance.

It had been a long day, Natasha had been working under her new alias since the plane touched down this morning. She was posing as a person the target had met online, through a dating website. The man was one of the top hackers in the country, and he had gotten ahold of some of Shield's top secret files. He had not gotten through the encrypted firewall yet… But he would, sooner than later. Natahsa's job was to get into his apartment, and steal the files back. It was a stupidly easy mission, one any of the newbie agents could have carried out without trouble. But Natasha knew this was not about the mission. It was about her. Shield was testing her, to see what she would do and how she'd act out from the direct supervision that had been hanging over her since Barton brought her in. The entire organization was invested in this, there were even bets going on about if Barton was going to come back from this alive, or be found dead in the hotel room.

Natasha was deeply insulted by those bets. As if she would be stupid enough to leave a body in such an obvious place, filled with her DNA, linked to her fake name. If she really wanted to get rid of Barton, she would leave him someplace no one would ever find him….

But that wasn't what she wanted to do. The man drove her crazy, but she couldn't help but like him. Just a bit. She liked working for Shield too- It was annoying being watched and judged constantly, but it wasn't anything she hadn't dealt with before. And at least here she wouldn't be instantly killed if she did a single thing wrong.

"Tasha?" It was only when she heard Clint speak her name that she realized her mind had been drifting. Idiot, she was going soft here at Shield. Losing her focus. "I told you not to call me that Barton, what do you want?"

The archer waved a file in front of her face. "You weren't even listening to me Nat! Gee, I might as well have done this one alone." Natasha rolled her eyes and snatched the file. "Don't call me that either. And please, I would pay money to see you try and pull off a mission where the agent needs to be the mark's online girlfriend. I mean, you know, if Shield was actually paying me." Natasha scowled as she said this last part, and Clint paused before he spoke.

"They're starting to trust you more. This mission is a big step, took me forever to convince Fury not to send a squad of guards with us. But he's starting to trust you. Or at least trust the idea you really want to change. I'm sure they'll put you on the payroll soon." He smirked at her, "And then I will happily take your money to do missions where I need to pose as someone's online girlfriend. It probably wouldn't even be the weirdest job I've done- Oh, wait nope there was that one where I had to smuggle in the elegant….."

Clint started to tell another complicated rambling (possibly made up) story, but Natasha snapped a folder closed, and interrupted before he could get too into it. I"m really not in the mood tonight Barton. And I have to get up early tomorrow, The Mark is taking me out to brunch or something else horrible like that. And then he's taking me to a comic book store before we go to his apartment…. Ugh. I think I'll just go to bed now, so you should go to your own room."

Clint's mouth was open, paused mid word, and he seemed to shrink a bit back into his seat at her words. "Oh…. Yeah. About that." The Black Widow's eyes narrowed, and leaned in threateningly towards her partner. "What do you mean, oh about that? What did you do?" Clint winced, and Natasha almost expected to see his eyes dart towards his bow, or one of the guns on the table. Usually when she intimidated people they looked for something to protect themselves with. Clint just continued staring into her eyes.

"It's really not a huge deal Romanoff, come one don't look at me with your death eyes. This hotel was the best secured, and was within the best range of the target. Only thing is, they only had the one room left. So, yeah. Hey roommate." Natasha narrowed her eyes, and tried very hard to keep her temper in check. "What the hell Barton? Why didn't you tell me this earlier!?" Clint shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well it was only confirmed this morning, and I didn't want to upset you before you met the mark. Didn't want to throw you off your game- You were supposed to be meeting the love of your life outside of the internet for the first time, remember?"

Natasha did remember. She hated missions like this. She'd had to play the dopey air headed girl who was madly in love with someone she never met. She had worried she was overdoing it when she embraced the mark, and told him she felt like her world was finally complete now that they were together, but he had eaten the whole bit up.

"That's not an excuse Barton, damn it you should have told me as soon as you found out. Where the hell are you going to sleep?" Natasha demanded, eyes darting towards the single bed in the room. Clint shrugged. "I don't know, I thought we could share the bed?" At this Natasha took a threatening step towards him, lips curled in a snarl, before she could say anything Clint began laughing anxiously as he backed his chair away from the table.

"JOKING, I WAS JOKING! HAHAHA! Sorry, forgot you have to take everything so SERIOUSLY! Wow, that got my heart rate up….. I'll sleep on the floor, ok? Is that good with you? Can you stop looking like you are going to rip my stomach out now?" He was joking, and he looked so anxious Natasha should have forgiven him for this simple mistake. It wasn't even a huge deal.

Only it was.

She had not slept in a room with someone since she escaped The Room. No one outside of the organization knew what she had to do before she let herself fall asleep. The last thing that she wanted was for Barton to know how truly screwed up she really was. He was one of the only people who didn't hate her, and if he saw her tonight acting like a psycho, he might not even want to be partner with her anymore. Then what? Would Shield give up on her too, throw her out into the streets?

No, they wouldn't do that. If they gave up on her they would just put a bullet through her skull, like Barton was supposed to do when they first met.

Natasha swallowed hard, and grabbed her small suitcase off of the bed. "Fine. Whatever. It's just for one night, if we're partners stuff like this is bound to come up. I'm going to take a shower."

In the bathroom Natasha turned the water on, and then slumped down against the door, until she was sitting on the floor head in her hands.

She felt trapped.

What was she going to do tonight? How could she chain herself without Barton noticing?

Chaining herself to bed? She told herself it was a strength. In some warped way, maybe it was. She did it every single night, without fail, just because it one of the last ties she had to who she was Before. Before, when she was just a little girl, scared, missing a family Natasha could not remember, wishing the metal cuff was not digging so hard into her wrist. Before, when she was just a girl. Not a human weapon.

Natasha told herself she was strong for handcuffing herself at night, because it kept her few pathetic pre-brainiwashing memories secure in her mind. It was her way of fighting the room, by making sure she kept what little they had not been able to take from her. But what if it was time to admit what it really was?

A weakness.

Was the Room still controlling her? Did their brainwashing really run that deep? Did she choose to chain herself to bed each night? Or was this another one of the twisted messages they had inserted, when they cracked open her brain, laid its contents out across a table, and played with them?

Natasha thought about what Clint had said. That Fury had started to trust in her ability to change. Was that just idiotic? She had been trained and conditioned to be a weapon against anything good, how could she change now? Could she change now? She had been trying so hard since joining Shield, but still she couldn't help but worry that someday her training would overpower her. That she would return to being a slave for The Room, and betray everyone who believed she could be an Agent of Shield.

Her face was getting warm, her heart racing in her chest. What was she going to do? She couldn't let this control her. But it wasn't controlling her. Or, was it? No, she was her own person, she chose what she wanted to do. She WANTED to do this. The compulsion to be chained when she slept, the way it connected to her only memories, it couldn't be that bad, right? It was fine. She was fine. She would chain herself after Barton fell asleep, wake up before he did. No one would find out her secret.

So, that night Natasha waited in bed until she heard Clint's breathes level out into the relaxed rhythm of sleep. She silently pulled the handcuffs from under her pillow, and clicked them around the head of the bed, and around her wrist. It felt right to do this- But also wrong. She had a sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach that she was doing the wrong thing, letting the weakness win. She felt like she was letting someone down. Maybe she was letting herself down?

Full of unease, and anxious to make sure she woke up before Barton saw her, Natasha closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

Ok, I feel this chapter is not as good as the first one, but let me know what you think! Next chapter will almost absolutely be the last one, unless you have a suggestion. Already planning on a chapter where Clint helps her not need the handcuffs when she sleeps, so no need to ask for that, ha! Don't worry, I want sweet romantic Clint helping Natasha as much as you guys do ;D 


	3. Chapter 3

They had been working together for almost a year and a half when Clint caught her with the handcuffs. She had been injured on a mission, nothing to serious, just a bullet to the leg. Unfortunately Shield had insisted she be put on more pain killers than Natasha was comfortable with. Enough painkillers to not only wipe away any discomfort from the wound, and also enough to make the assassin drowsy. Enough to make her sleep late, and not wake up when someone tapped on her door. Amazingly, apparently she was also on enough meds to let her sleep through someone entering her room without permission.

Natasha had slept through the alarm going off on her phone, but she woke up quickly enough when Clint stood over her bed saying her name over and over. "Natasha! Nat, what the hell? Tasha, wake up, are you ok? What is this? What the heck is going on?"

She heard his voice, and felt the metal ring closing around her wrist. Her brain was still foggy from sleep and medication, but the thought pierced through her mind- "No. These two things did not go together, he couldn't find out about-"

"Natasha, why the hell are you chained to the bed?! What happened, is someone else here? Are you ok?" The Black Widow's eyes flew open, and she tried to sit up, but of course the chain held her back. Clint was holding a cup of coffee in one hand, and a small paper bag in the other. He looked freaked out, and scared- and maybe hurt. Natasha felt her stomach swoop sickeningly. She had let him down. Clint had trusted her, and thought she had changed for the better, become the best agent Shield had to offer. And now he was seeing what she truly, still was. Messed up. Twisted. Sick in the head, forever tainted by the grotesque manipulation of the Red Room.

She was mad at herself for still giving into this compulsion, mad at Clint for seeing her weakness, and mad she had let her guard down for once and let this happen. Why had she agreed to take those painkillers? If she hadn't she would have woken up an hour ago like she was supposed to, and Clint wouldn't be looking at her like this.

Natasha shot her hand under the pillow, and grabbed the key to the lock, fingers fumbling as she reached for it. "Get out." She said, her voice low and terrifying.

Clint took a step back, now he definitely looked more confused than anything else. "Tasha, what? What going on? Are yo-"

She was still trying to find that key, the metal of the cuff was digging into her hand. For a second Tasha was almost tempted to break her thumb just to escape the cuff, and make Clint stop looking at her like that. Finally with fumbling fingers she grabbed the key, and shoved it into the lock, she was free of the handcuffs but Clint was still looking at her like she was an injured animal. Or maybe like she had let him down. Either way, Natasha could not take this a second longer, he had to stop looking at her.

"I said, get out!" She shouted, no longer laying on the bed, now she was trying to shove Clint out of the room, but he was fighting back. "Nat, no! I need an explanation, what the hell is going on, did you chain yourself to your bed? Why would you even do that? What's going on?"

She couldn't deal with this, not now, not ever. She had always told herself Clint would never find out about this, that she would be able to stop giving in to her chains before he found out. But now he was standing next to her, fighting to stay by her side even as she pushed him away.

Natasha finally got a grip on Clint's wrist, and ignoring whatever he was saying, shoved him out of her room. He was talking, she saw his mouth moving, but she could not hear what he was saying over the noise of the blood pounding in her head. She was so damn angry. She was so ashamed. This was one of her few weaknesses that she just couldn't overcome, and she felt like a very personal part of herself had been exposed to her partner. A part she couldn't take back from him.

Furious, Natasha turned away from the bed and grabbed the handcuffs that were still attached to the headboard, and unlocked the other end of them, and whipped them across the room, away from her. They just hit the wall, and fell simply to the floor. The actions were so small compared to how Natasha felt, she couldn't take it. She grabbed her pillow, stuffed a corner of it into her mouth, and released a muffled scream into the fabric and stuffing.

Later that day, after Natasha had calmed down, woken up from the remaining fogginess of the painkillers that had messed with her emotions and got herself back into order, she went off to find Barton. It didn't take long. Maybe she just knew where to look, or maybe he was easy to find.

Maybe he knew that she was going to come looking for him, so went to the first place Natasha would look.

The archery range was empty except for the two of them, Clint had a half full quiver of arrows across his back, empty quivers were strewn across the ground. Half the targets were overloaded with arrows, now Clint was unloading even more of the missiles into the next target in line.

He knew that she was there. Natasha saw the way he stiffened his back when she got within ten feet of him, noticed how the arrow that he shot almost didn't bury itself perfectly into the center of the target. She stood at the table where his next quiver of arrows was, and waited for him to turn around.

He smiled when he saw her, but there was something different in his eyes. He looked upset- and maybe confused. "Hey…. Um, nice having a day off. I've just been shooting arrows, you know. Are you feeling better? I mean, how are you feeling?"

Natasha shrugged. "I feel like I've been shot. I'll live, we should be able to get back in the field within a week. Less if something big comes up, and we can convince Coulson to lie about how healthy I am." Clint smirked like this, and then it was like neither of them knew what to say. He sighed and gently put his bow down on the table Natasha was standing next to. He opened his mouth to talk, but Natasha spoke first.

"I don't want to talk about it, what happened, this morning. Ok? I'm fine. Everything is fine. I promise I am not insane, and this does not affect my ability to do my job, and it does not mean I am not loyal to Shield. Or that I am some brainwashed freak who is still under the control of the Red Room. Understand?" Clint frowned. "What? I'm not even worried about that, I was just worried about YOU Romanoff. It's not exactly normal to come in to wake someone up, and find them handcuffed to a bed."

Natasha narrowed her eyes at Clint. "I know it's not normal Barton, believe me I am aware of that little fact. All you need to know is that this is something I have to deal with, that only affects me. Not Shield, not the missions, not our partnership, not you. This is my problem, and I can fix it. Not that it even needs to be fixed- I mean, it's not hurting anyone- Just-"

Something caught in her throat, and she couldn't get the words out, he was staring at her again, she couldn't read his expression. "I don't want to talk about this again. Got it?" She asked. Clint hardly had time to nod his head before The Black Widow turned around and left.

_

Ok, so I guess you get another chapter after all? Will update soon! And will update sooner, if I get reviews ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Ok, please ignore typos and any stuff that might not line up in this 100%, I am going to bed but wanted to post this! I will do a proof read tomorrow morning and fix stuff. This chapter is set a couple years after the last one, PLEASE REVIEW!

_  
Strike Team was on a trip in Italy. Of course for them a trip meant they were doing something dangerous on the orders of Shield, had almost been killed a few times, and now were being chases by people who wanted to kill them. They were both exhausted, and after a day on the run they just wanted to sleep. There were no Shield safe houses in the area, but luckily Natasha had been able to find a hotel room that she had decided was safe enough for one night.

At least she said it was a hotel room….. Clint didn't speak much Italian (Natasha said knowing what spaghetti, ravioli and macaroni were didn't count. So, yeah, if that was true he didn't speak any Italian then.) but Natasha had spoken to a lady behind a desk, and brought them up to this room. This small, dark, musty room, that looked more like an evicted apartment than a hotel suite.

But he didn't complain when they entered the room, they didn't have time for that. Besides, they were only going to be here a few hours. It was almost one am, and Shield was going to pick them up nearby around noon tomorrow. As soon as they entered the room, the assasians instantly began checking out the room, setting up security measures, sweeping it for anything dangerous.

But then, once they had done everything to feel as safe as possible, they examined the room to see how comfortable they would be for a night. There was a small couch against a wall, an empty mini fridge, mildew growing on one of the walls, and a bed in the corner. Clint didn't give that a second look, and went to check out the (pretty disgusting) bathroom. But when he came out Natasha was standing still, staring at the bed. She was holding her bag in one hand, and in the other a pair of handcuffs. Clint understood. The bed was basically just a mattress on legs. There was no headboard, nothing that she could attach her handcuffs to at night.

Clint spoke as Natasha moved forward to examine the bed. "Tasha…" "Clint, stop. I can handle this. Just get ready for bed. We have ten hours before we need to meet Coulson. We need sleep." So, Clint left her to figure out her problems, and quickly got ready in the cramped disgusting bathroom.

When he came out she was pulling the bed away from the wall, as if the nonexistent headboard was hiding and if she pulled the bed out far enough it would just pop up. Natasha was still holding the handcuffs in one hand, and she fumbled with them as she tried to see if she could hook one end of them around a bed leg. No, that wouldn't work, the chain of the cuffs wasn't long enough to get back up to the bed. She crouched on the floor trying to manipulate the cuffs, seeing if she could make something work. Her lips were pursed, her shoulders tensed. It pained Clint to see her stressing over something so dumb, so pointless.

"Natasha- that's not going to work." He sighed, watching as she tried to move the chain up the leg of the bed to see if she could sleep on the bed and be cuffed at the same time. It looked like that wasn't going to work though, unless she was ok with the possibility of having her arm yanked from it's socket if she moved wrong during the night or woke too quickly. Of course knowing Natasha she probably didn't care.

"Shut up Barton, it will work. I know what I'm doing." Natasha insisted, as she accidentally dropped the handcuffs, and picked them up before moving around to other side of the bed where she was still trying to see if she could find a way to sleep on it when being handcuffed to a bed leg. Clint scowled, but wasn't sure what to say. He really didn't feel like having a giant fight right now. But for some reason he just couldn't stop talking.

"Listen, do you really need to do that tonight? I mean, we're both tired, why don't you just go to sleep and you can use the cuffs when we get back to Shield. Her eyes narrowed, and she glared at him for a second. "I don't want to talk about this."

And that was it, it was all she said, But it was all that she ever said when Clint brought this up, and he was sick of it. He was sick of seeing his friend chain herself up at night, he was sick of her secrets, he was sick of seeing her hurt herself like this.

He was so frustrated and mad, he almost punched the wall. Then remembered how much that had hurt last time, and how Coulson had warned him Shield was NOT paying for any more repairs for walls Barton punched holes into without reason. So instead he just kicked the door quickly and angrily trying to control himself before turning back to his partner. And suddenly he was saying all of the things he had thought since he first saw her with the handcuffs, the things he had resisted saying for a long time because he knew it would upset her.

"Why do you do this Nat? I've worked with you for years, Shield protects you, you're safe. The Room can't control you anymore. Haven't they done enough to you? I KNOW what they did, You've told me enough. They kidnapped you Nat. They took away your childhood, and turned you into a weapon. They made you fight for your life, and kill other children. They destroyed you Tash! And I hate that, I hate they put you through that. It kills me to even think about it. But you beat them Nat. They destroyed you, and instead of just letting them do that, you fought back. And you are stronger than they ever could have made you. But you still let them control you. Every single night when you put those damn handcuffs on, you're still letting them win."

Natasha was standing up now, her face flushed, eyes blazing with anger. "How dare you Clint. You know NOTHING about what I have been through, what they did to me. You think just because you've snooped into my files, and I've told you a few things from my past that you know about my life? hat you understand what I think, and why I do things? Do you think that you can analyze me and- and try to fix me? You think I need to be fixed?" As she said this, something changed in Natasha's eyes, and suddenly instead of just looking furious she also looked hurt as the full impact of what she had just said hit her. "You think I need to be fixed."

Silence filled the room for a few seconds, as both of them realized what she had said, and then Natasha turned around and started to walk towards the door. Clint leapt up and blocked the her path before she could leave. "Nat, no, stop! That's not what I meant, I was just trying to help you." Natasha looked like she was about to shove him to the floor and step over his body. "Get out of my way Clint, I don't want to talk about it! Now, move!"

He still refused to step away from the door. "No, we HAVE to talk about this. I have let you do this for years. I knew you didn't want to talk about it, so I didn't bring it up. I knew that if I told anyone, you would wind up locked in the freaking psych ward. So I kept my mouth shut. I knew if Fury found out you still gave in to absolutely any Red Room urges, even one, he would lose all trust in you. So guess what? Fury hasn't found out. No one has. Because of me."

She practically snarled at her partner. "Oh, yeah, thank you so much Barton, if it weren't for you I would be totally helpless. Everyone in Shield would know how damn insane the Black Widow is, and I would be- what? Locked up for evaluation? Tossed out on the street? Called into Fury's office and never seen again?" Because everyone knows I can't hide my own secrets, so thank you so much Barton! Yes, it is absolutely all thanks to you that I was able to keep something from this "so called" intelligence organization. Thank you for protecting me, until now. I guess you hit your limit, since now you just have to fix me!"

She hardly looked mad now, if anything she was looking frantic and desperate. Like a trapped animal. "But you can't fix me. You can't. You can't! Believe me, I've tried!" It looked like Natasha was on the verge of tears now, and Clint had no idea what to do. All he had wanted to do was help her. And now he'd upset her more than he ever had before, and made her believe that he didn't think she was good enough, and was still broken, in need of repair.

It was like something had snapped in her, a plug had been pulled and she couldn't stop talking. "I left the Room, Clint. I abandoned everything I knew, and tried to forge a new life for myself. I do what Fury tells me, I save people, I'm trying to be a good person! But guess what? it's not working, I am never going to be like you or any of the other agents. I'm always going to be that crazy evil Russian, who Hawkeye took pity on and rescued. I'm always going to have to live with what they did to me, what they made me do. And I always will have to know I only am the person I am today, because of what they did when they screwed with my brain."

Her eyes still looked dry to him, but Natasha quickly swiped a hand across them as if to ward off tears. "And yes, maybe I do handcuff myself when I sleep because of those bastards from The Room. Do you think I'm so much of an idiot that I believe that's normal? I know it's insane, and creepy, and weird and just wrong. But I have to do it." She was practically babbling now, the words pouring out of her mouth like she couldn't control them. "This is all that I have, it's the only thing I remember from before, when I was still me."

Now Natasha really was crying, just a little bit, and Clint had no idea what to do. "Nat, that doesn't make any sense…. I don't want to fix you, I want to help you. How can handcuffing yourself to be a bed be all that you have?"

He didn't think she would actually answer him. Honestly he expected she was about to knock him to the ground, and step over his body to leave the room and hide from him for at least a week. They didn't talk about her past. It was just a fact they both knew, and didn't even have to acknowledge. He was braking one of their only rules not only by mentioning her handcuffing herself, but also by asking her about it- especially since she had just let slip it was part of her past.

He waited for her to run away. But for once, for now, Natasha stayed. Maybe she was too worked up to think straight, maybe she was tired of keeping practically everything to herself. Maybe she was simply tired.

"It just is Clint. It's the only thing that I have from- from before. Before they cracked my brain open and wired it the way they wanted to. It's the only thing that I remember from when I wasn't just a Black Widow." Natasha said, sorrowfully, crossing her arms across her chest in a defensive motion, always so ready to protect herself.

"Nat, that- it just doesn't make any sense. Why would you want to relive that every night? That's not even a good memory." Her eyes flashed with anger, and she turned away from him and moved towards the other side of the room. "Oh, really Barton? It's not? That's not what it's about. It would be nice if I had happy memories. You know, like a normal person! I would love to remember playing with toys, or baking cookies. Having someone tuck me in at night, playing outside. But I don't. The only thing that I have is the memory of laying on a freezing cold cot, with metal digging into my wrist, not knowing what the hell was going on."

Her hands were shaking so she clenched them into fists and held them still at her side. Clint pretended not to notice. He spoke hesitantly, not sure what to say, positive no matter what, he would say the wrong thing. "So if it's such a bad memory, why do you have to do this to yourself?"

They stared at each other, silence smothering any words they might be about to say. Clint was shocked by the raw pain that was evident in Natasha's eyes, it was like nothing he had ever seen before.

"It's like I said Clint. It's the only thing that I have. The only thing I know about my childhood is that when I was brought in and handcuffed, I was terrified. I knew I shouldn't be there. I know that that night was the last time I thought my own thoughts, without any influence from the Red Room. That memory is all I know about the child that I really was, and the person I might have been." A few tears stole down her face now, she didn't bother wiping them away. Maybe she didn't notice them. Maybe she just couldn't make herself care.

"That's my entire childhood Barton. All I know about myself. I know that I was wearing a blue coat when they took me, and at first I was worried because someone had torn one of the pockets. I know I thought the person who chained me up, reminded me of someone else. And I thought the woman who came in to take a sample of my blood, was going to save me. But mostly I remember thinking about my parents." A sob escaped from her mouth, but she held it back and continued talking. "I was worried they would miss me. But I knew they were going to come find me- Doesn't that mean something? Shouldn't it? I trusted them, I loved them. And if I thought they could find me, does that mean I trusted them and knew they loved me?"

She was sitting down on the bed now, hands still in fists like she wanted to fight down the memory filling her brain. Her entire body was trembling. "That's the only memory I have of them. I don't know what my mother looked like, I can't remember the sound of my fathers voice. I just know that when I was scared, and in danger, I missed them. And I was terrified, and I wanted them. And I thought they would come for me. They didn't, but those feelings? That's all I know about them. It's all I have." She looked at Clint now, and tried to compose herself.

"That memory is all I know about who I was before. How I thought, what I was like. It's all I know about my parents, and how I felt about them. It really is the only thing I have, and I can't let go off that Clint. I can't lose any more than I already have. I know it's probably some twisted compulsion from Red Room brainwashing that makes me chain myself up at night- But I also do this because it anchors that memory. I feel like if I don't do this, then I will lose the last part of who I really was. And then the Room really will have won."

She let herself collapse on the bed, and Clint couldn't tell if she was still crying or not, but even if she wasn't this entire situation was still heartbreaking for him. Barton walked towards the bed, and sat down next to Natasha. He reached out and rubbed her back soothingly, trying to calm her down, wondering what on earth he could do to help.

"Nat. Natasha. You are who you are, and nothing can change that. You have overcome so many obstacles in your life- And yes, you are partially the way that you are because of what that damn Room did to you, But you are so much more than that, you have created yourself to be someone the Room could never have made. You are more than the weapon they wanted to make. You escaped that hell, you beat them when they were sure that no one could. YOU made yourself into the person that you are now. You're never going to go back to who they made you, you are your own 're a person, not a weapon."

Natasha was still trembling, trying to pull herself back together, get back in control. "I can't believe that. I can't lose any more of myself." Clint tentatively reached out and brushed a few strands of hair away from her face, though she still refused to look up at him.

"Nat, it's ok, you can let go of this. You aren't going to change if you stop cuffing yourself to a bed every night. You won't become a monster, or become brainwashed again. You won't turn evil, or decide to betray Shield. Because You get to choose who you are now. Not the Room. Not a stupid handcuff or chain. Trust me Natasha, you don't need a chain to hold yourself together. You can do that on your own. I know you're strong enough to do this."

She sat up a bit now, and looked at him with eyes that were dry, but filled with despair. "No, I can't, I can't do it Clint. I've tried before, and it makes me feel like I am flying apart, into a million pieces that I can never get back." She looked away again, and Clint was stuck struggling for what to do next.

"Ok, you don't need to do this on your own Tasha. I can't keep letting you do this to yourself. Please, let me help you. I want to help you. Just let me Nat. Please."

"Just drop it Barton! There's nothing you can do! Please leave!" She begged, burying her face in her hands again. Clint knew she wanted him to leave, but instead he moved towards the bed and sat next to her. He reached out and grabbed one of her hands, and was surprised when she didn't pull away.

They were silent as they sat side by side. Natasha let him hold her hand, not saying a word, flaming hair tumbling around her face. Clint spoke quietly as he held onto her.

"I have memories that I don't want to lose too. I know it's not the same, but I kind of feel I get where you're coming from. When I was a kid, my dad wasn't around much. When he was, it wasn't usually pleasant. But once when I was a kid, he took me and my brother to this arcade for the afternoon. I don't know why he did it, or where he got the money, or why he wasn't using that money to drown himself in the bottom of a bottle in some bar. But he took us there, and let us play all of the games that we wanted."

Clint had an absent look in his eyes, sucked back into his past. "I remember that my Dad, he told us he was the king of skee ball. And then he played it, and only won like three tickets. I was so scared he'd get mad, I was convinced he was about to blow his top, start throwing punches. Instead he just laughed it off and went to the next game. We only had enough tickets at the end to get some of those cheap plastic toys, you know tops, noise makers, whatever. But it really was a great afternoon….. It really is one of the only good memories I have about my father."

He was still holding her hand, as if he never wanted to let it go. "I KNOW that's not the same thing as what you're dealing with. I just want to let you know, I understand what it's like to only have so many good memories. Only have so many memories, period. And I know how scary it can be to think about those memories disappearing, only leaving the bad stuff. But Nat, you kept that memory through so much stuff. People messing with your head, forcing you into their mold, you have retained it over all these years. I promise you, if you have held onto that memory for this long, if it's that important to you, it's not going anywhere."

Natasha was tearing up now, she squeezed Clint's hand so hard, for a split second he was worried she might crack a few bones. "Ok, so the memory is not going anywhere, but what if I'm right? What if doing this every night is the only thing keeping ME together? The real me, that I was before all of this?"

She looked so genuinely panicked, Clint couldn't tell her how illogical this sounded. Instead he smiled and said, "I'll make sure that doesn't happen, that you stay right here- with me. If it's ok with you, that is. I'll stay here until you want me to leave. Would you like that?" Natasha bit her lip, and finally nodded. She was still holding his hand.

The archer smiled, "Move over. Make room for me, here, hand me that blanket-" He took it from her, and made sure she was comfortable. It was a small bed, they ended up with Clint sitting up leaning against the headboard, and Natasha curled up next to him, he was still holding her hand.

Natasha was nervous- She was also tense, sleep deprived, and not really sure what she was doing. Clint spoke softly. "Nat, relax…. Do you want me to leave?" He sounded so concerned. She shook her head, because she actually did like having him here. Just didn't know how to handle this situation.

"No, it's ok- I think this will help.  
And you're right, this needs to stop. I'm just- not used to letting people in like this." She didn't elaborate, because she didn't have to. Clint understood. He knew it was hard for her to admit weakness, talk about her past, ask for help.

The archer didn't say anything else, and neither did Natasha. But for the rest of the night as Natasha struggled to fall asleep, dealt with a few panic attacks and wondered if she should just put the handcuff back on, Clint was right there at her side. Reassuring her, talking her down from anxiety, and doing his best to help her have a normal nights sleep.

_

The next morning Natasha woke up suddenly, and felt panic and confusion for a minute- Who was in bed with her? Why didn't she have the handcuffs on- what was around her wrist? She started to pull her hand away, but the thing was securely holding on to her. She sat up a little bit, and found she had been leaning against Barton when she slept, one of his arms was wrapped around her like he didn't want to let her go- And his hand was firmly holding on to her wrist. He was sleeping, but hadn't let go of her. She was still here.

Natasha took a shaky breathe, and evaluated how she felt right now- Trying to see if sleeping without the handcuffs had changed her, made her any less of the person she had been before falling asleep without them. She felt exactly the same. She was thinking her own thoughts, she was capable of making her own decisions, she still remembered who she had been (Kind of) before The Room, and she didn't have any sudden urges to work against Shield or kill random people.

Clint was right- sleeping without the cuff had helped her. Sleeping with HIM had helped her. Natasha had not shared a bed like this with anyone for a long time, she only ever ended up in bed with someone when she had to seduce a mark, and that usually ended with them bleeding out into the sheets from a bullet- or an arrow.

But this had been nice. For the first time in a long time Natasha had slept without nightmares, she had felt safe sleeping next to him. It was like even in sleep she knew nothing would hurt her, because Clint was there to protect her.

Natasha stared at the sleeping archer, and wondered what would happen next. In the last year or so they had grown closer in their relationship every day, in spite of her best efforts to stop the friendship from growing. She had spent her entire life running, pushing people away, keeping everything to herself and refusing to ask for help. Maybe it was time to stop doing that. Maybe it was time for her to let someone into her life.

So, instead of prying herself away from Clint's hand around her wrist, getting ready for the day before Clint woke up, and pretending this entire thing never happened, Natasha laid back down next to him. She didn't fall asleep again, instead she watched her sleeping partner, and relaxed into his sleeping embrace.

She felt grateful that Clint had helped her. She felt lucky that he was her partner, surprised he had not left her when she slept. She felt that Barton was (possibly) her friend. For now she refused to admit anything more- Love was not a part of Natasha's life, an emotion she refused to believe in. So she ignored whatever she was feeling, and simply laid there with Clint's arm still wrapped around her.

Natasha did not even realize she fell asleep again until she woke a couple of hours later, to find Clint awake, unmoving and still in the same position staring down at her. He hadn't moved, and she couldn't help but wonder how long he'd waited for her to wake up.

He spoke softly, "Hey….. Are you ok?" The archer looked so concerned, his fingers twitched around her wrist as if he wanted to hold on to her even tighter than he already was. Natasha was still, processing the situation, calculating her next move figuring out what to do next. Several plans instantly formed in her mind, but she didn't like any of them. They felt dishonest, like they would be a rotten way to thank her partner for helping her.

So Natasha ignored her instincts to manipulate this situation, talk her way out of being thankful for what Clint had done, pretend she hadn't felt safer than she had in years last night. Instead she smiled and slipped her wrist from Clint's grip so she was holding his hand. "I'm fine…. Thank you Clint, I owe you one." Then she reached up with her other hand, pulled his face towards her, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

It didn't last long, but the feeling of his lips against hers made Natasha feel like nothing could hurt her, like she could do anything if he was at her side.

She let go of him before the archer could react much, and slipped out of the bed to go get ready for the day.

She still refused to admit she was in love- But that realization would come before long. After more missions fought together, and bullet wounds and explosions. After many more nights of Clint holding her hand so she wouldn't fly apart and lose that last piece of herself, and stolen kisses when they woke up.

And someday, when Natasha was ready to stop running, Clint would be there, waiting for her.  
_

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